


Baby Grand

by LadyJanelly



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Dark Angel - Freeform, Gen, Piano, The Berrisford Agenda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-08 20:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJanelly/pseuds/LadyJanelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't know he missed it until he saw it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Grand

There’s an illicit feeling to being on set after all of the lights are out and almost everyone’s gone home for the day. It’s like being at school on a Saturday, or walking around the mall an hour after the shops have all closed. Jensen slides around the camera stands and onto the darkened stage. Wearing his own clothes here, instead of Dean’s, only adds to the strangeness, but he had to come.

The piano is off to the side, inconspicuous as a baby grand can possibly be. He’s careful not to move anything as he steps up to it. He’s just got a few minutes before Jared’s done changing and washing the crap out of his hair and then they’re riding back to the city together. How much trouble could Jensen possibly get into? If security catches him, he’ll say he was working on mood or something; what can they do, really.

He lifts the part that covers the keys up and back. All that white and black calls to him in a way he doesn’t understand, a pattern, order, like mathematics on crack. He presses each key, one after the other. There has to be a name for testing the sounds like this, but he doesn’t know what it is. The piano is obviously there for looks rather than sound. Two of the keys sound off, and one makes such a bad “boink” sound that he won’t press it again. 

Not moving the bench, he settles himself in front of the instrument. His fingers hover, and then press out a simple little deedle-deedle-dee. He smiles at the sound, such a happy little thing. Like a gangly colt chasing its momma. He runs through it again, making a more intricate series of sounds for the mare. He builds a pattern, a dance, moving around those bad keys like a sculptor working around a crack in a block of marble.

God, it’s been so long, what, six years since he’s touched a piano. He remembers the thing where he presses two keys at the same time. Oh, and the pedals too. 

You sure you’re not a genetically engineered super-soldier? And yeah, Jessica had just been teasing, but he’d felt like such a freak when she’d said it, and after that he wouldn’t let his hands follow the music in his head. He played just good enough that they didn't call in the hand model, and bad enough that nobody was too impressed. He’d had enough of that in third grade when those stupid IQ tests came back and everybody looked at him weird until he started messing up his schoolwork on purpose.

But this, this is good, just him and the piano in the dark.


End file.
